


We Paint

by alyyks



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clones Feels, GFY, Gen, POV Second Person, Painting, clone culture, disguised meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8946346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyyks/pseuds/alyyks
Summary: Or, A Brief Exploration Of Clone Culture—The Art.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr as a prompt](http://alyyks.tumblr.com/post/145174299333) back in May, this is the cleaned up and extended version.

There are two ways to get a design done, if you’re not the one doing it.  
  
One: there’s a brother, or more than one, in your area who is good and who paint like it’s breathing and who has the time to paint your helmet, or to do the memorial markings many of us have, or who can sketch a tattoo that can then be taken to a civilian studio and be done there.  
  
(In civilian studios, often it’s cheaper if the design is already done. Sometimes it’s free for brothers, as a thanks for their service. Honestly, we’d keep it to ourselves, but regulations forbid the possession of tattoo machines. Officially there is not a single tattoo machine in any of the personal effects of any brother. _Officially_.)  
  
Two: you don’t have a brother in your unit who does any of that, and in this case you have to wait until you’re meeting another unit to ask. In that second case, it costs more.  
  
Because regardless of who you ask, art costs trade: non-ration food, and candy, things smuggled in like soft scarves and bracelets made of knotted threads that stay in place under our blacks, an extra hour of sleep, the cleaning done for them, an exchange of shift like staying at the barracks on Coruscant while everyone else goes to 79’s, extra weaponry very much not supplied by the GAR, the drinks paid the rare times we are out in bars that are not 79’s, gossip passed to the artist first, holozines and music and videos seen by the artist first.  
  
(Gossip, holozines, music, videos and anything else that can be put on a datachip, that’s shared, that always end up being shared. Information, knowledge, a glimpse into a world that is not ours and enticing and mystifying for it… even if we will never live that life, any of those lives, just knowing it exists… and you never know when random knowledge will come in handy. Like taming skittish Padawan-Commanders. Will have to tell you about the time with the holonet-drama for ice-breaker, later.)  
  
(Don’t you ever, ever trade any kind of physical contact for art—whether you’re trading with a brother or with a civilian. Remember this: among brothers, physical contact is freely given to anyone who ask, and offered on an individual basis. It’s not something you trade for, it’s not something to be bartered. It’s comfort and need, and that should never come at a price. Among civilians…trust you guts, and avoid this kind of deals all the same.)  
  
So say you’re a shiny, only your command marks on your armor if you have any. After the first battle you see, you’re mostly not a shiny anymore; mostly, because the rules for that depend battalion by battalion, sometimes company to company. But the spirit of it is the same: you’re not a shiny anymore, you survived, you get the battalion’s colors on your armor. Those are easy, generally. You do it yourself, a rite of passage. You go to the quartermaster, go request the paint and stencils from him, go paint your armor.  
  
(Stencils are for battalions and companies with specific, complicated colors. Ever seen the Wolfpack’s marks, the wolf’s head on their helmets?)  
  
Depending on how that battle went, you do it alone or in small groups. It’s exciting, always, because, well, those are the first marks; those are yours, that helmet is your face and you can start to make it your own. Older brothers usually come by, for support–again, depending how that battle went, depending how much you saw, depending if you’re the last one standing–and to give advice: how the armor has to be sanded to scrape the coating layer and get the paint to stay, how you need extra hands for this particular stencil to stay in place, how you need to be wearing vambrace and rerebrace for that stripe to line up and have a brother mark the centers, how the _brushes that come with the paint are shit, no, really, use this one, everyone uses it_.  
  
It’s exciting, always, but it’s also remembrance because you survived and others did not, and the smell of the GAR-issued paint get associated with this, with grief, with the quietness of space.  
  
We paint, so that we remember. We paint, so that we belong.  
  
So the shiny-not-so-shiny that is you, now you want more on your armor–or a tattoo design. Maybe it’s a name, maybe it’s a design that a fallen brother had, maybe it’s the same mark as your brother, maybe it’s a part of your number, or stars, or flowers, or a portrait, or anything else. In any case it’s beyond your capacities, because you can do the battalion’s marks but you don’t paint like it’s breathing.  
  
The first thing to do, is to keep your eyes and ears open. Brothers like to talk, and like to help. Maybe the artist will tell you he can help himself, or his close brothers will point him to you if it’s a good time to ask.  
  
(Good times to ask: hyperspace trips are long and boring, even with drills and exercises. Being at the barracks on Coruscant can be long and boring, especially is your unit is not allowed out in the city for whatever reason. Like, ahem, unscheduled fireworks explosions. Don’t ask. If you’re unlucky enough to get to one, medical stations are good places to ask, too. _Anything_ to have anything else to do than sleep, and heal, and wait.)  
  
If no-one is telling, time to keep your eyes open, and to look for the really cool armors, the complicated designs, the full sleeves. Then it’s just a matter of asking. Complimenting the work is polite, and appreciated, and more than justified. Brothers usually waste no time in telling who the artist was. It’s bragging, a mark of pride on both sides, a _I was good enough to make this_ and _I found good trade to get this_ and _the one who did this accepted to do this for me; I remember_ and _I belong._  
  
The next step is approaching the artist. If they’re in a different unit than yours, you might have to wait for that unit to rendezvous with your battalion again, and that might never happen again.  
  
There are very few rules to commissioning a brother, but they somehow stick to all the GAR troops: makes sure you know what you are asking for, and that even if there’s some back and forth with the artist and things change in the end. Have something to trade with, and be willing to discuss that price. And no means no.  
  
No means _no_ , and yes, it needs to be repeated. We paint, so that we remember, we paint, so that we belong, but none of that implies an obligation to do it, for anyone. Being the brother who takes commissions, who draws for others, even if that brother paints like it’s breathing, it’s still extra work beyond the day-to-day duties of a trooper. It might be part of them, it might be a need, but that work they do for others. Respect that.  
  
(Some Jedi, officers and COs tried to put a stop to it at the very start of the war, citing regulations, citing lost time and duty dereliction, saying it had nothing to do with the course of the war and thus it was useless.  
  
Try to keep a human-type from breathing, see how far you go.  
  
Higher ups quickly shut up about the painting. It never belonged to them anyway.)  
  
Once you get your design, and that can happen fast, that can take longer than you’d think possible, you’ll feel it, too. We paint, so that we remember; we paint, so that we belong: you’ll be marked by our brothers, you’ll be carrying some of that breathing with you–so that you start to belong to yourself.  
   
  



End file.
